


Dangerous Knowledge

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle returns to Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I’ve been watching you…”

 

The voice jolted Hermione from her reading. She’d been studying night and day for NEWTs, staying up late into the dark hours, pouring through books.

 

The unfamiliar voice belonged to an unusual looking young man. He wore an antiquated version of the Slytherin uniform with a badge that marked him as Head Boy. Ironically, the current Head Boy, Draco Malfoy, was snoozing just one aisle over in the, otherwise, empty library.

 

The wizard was tall and lean with neatly-combed, dark hair and an intense stare. Not to mention, he was opaque; in other words, a ghost.

 

Hermione dismissed him. Ghosts were unable to cause harm.

 

“And _why_ have you been watching me..?” she asked, nose buried once more in a book. Despite the fact that he was a ghost, there was something about him that chilled her blood. Perhaps it was the keenness of his eyes or the evident self-assurance in his posture. Whatever the case, Hermione was unable to ignore him.

 

The specter hovered closer.  

 

“You’re quite intelligent for a Muggle-born,” he finally said.

 

Hermione lifted a brow. The ghost wanted to parallel parentage with intelligence?

 

“It’s surprising,” he continued in a purr, casually exposing his palm on the table. The gesture was unnatural. Hermione shivered with a rush of unease.

 

“I’ve got studying to do. Go bother someone else,” she snapped. She had work to do. He was a ghost for Merlin’s sake!

 

“I don’t _bother_ anyone… I seek intelligent conversation …” he replied, amusement in his voice.

 

Hermione’s agitation flared into anger. She felt her cheeks begin to burn. What was it about the apparition that was putting her on such a sharp edge?

 

“What’s your name?” she asked.

 

The predatory grin that curled his lips reminded Hermione that he was a Slytherin. She examined his uniform again; she’d seen one similar but couldn’t remember where.

 

“You have unrealized potential…” the wizard said.

 

“Is that so..?” asked Hermione, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“You’re wasting your time learning useless spells… Muggle-borns don’t get far in the Wizarding World. You should break away from school lessons and learn _real_ magic…”

 

Hermione recognized a persuasive persona when she saw one, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t susceptible. This ghost knew more than she was comfortable with and he’d hit on a very personal fear of hers. She knew that Muggle-borns still had a rough time being accepted in the magical world; that was one of the reasons she worked so hard to prove herself. She wanted no doubts about her abilities.

 

“I’ve seen you… Pretending to ignore the taunts…” he hissed, floating around the table towards her.

 

“You pretend to shrug it off… You pretend that you don’t care…” His icy hands burned into her shoulders, as if she wore no robe.

 

“You pretend it doesn’t hurt…” he whispered in her ear.

 

Hermione wanted to fight his touch but she was frozen by the truths spilling from his ghostly lips. The sharp bite of his fingers slid up her throat and encircled her neck; for a moment she wondered if he wanted to strangle her. She lifted her chin, allowing his hands to spread across the column of her neck. Tears welled in her eyes as she filled with memories of the heartless teasing from pureblood students. It left her empty… There were times when she felt so alone that she thought about disappearing… But then the logical part of her would resurface and push her even harder into proving herself.

 

To hear another voice speak her darkest thoughts brought Hermione’s emotions to the fore. She felt fragile and exposed. The sensation of the ghost’s cold hands became strangely comforting.

 

“I would like to help you,” chilled air brushed over the shell of her ear at the softly spoken words.

 

Hermione was thankful when the ghost moved away. Her mind cleared and she blinked away her unshed tears. Then, unexpected lethargy stole over the witch.  She suddenly longed for sleep.

 

“I’ll teach you,” he offered.

 

“And what do you get out of it..?” she asked with a yawn.

 

“A powerful ally…” he grinned from across the table.

 

Through her haze of sudden weariness, Hermione noticed that he looked a little like Harry. For some reason, this rang an alarm in the back of her mind. She was too tired to think very hard about it though, and when he shimmered into nothing, she grumpily collected her things to trudge back to her rooms.

 

Hermione noticed that the Head Boy had fallen asleep on his books. His quill twitched in his hand. She contemplated waking him up, but then decided that from that moment on, she should do more looking after herself than others; especially in the case of arrogant, prejudiced prats like Draco Malfoy.

 

In the morning, Hermione entered the Common Room to find Malfoy dozing before the fire. Again, she considered waking him but quickly dismissed the thought. No more worrying for others… No more allowing cruel name calling… The ghost was right; she did hurt and she was done with it. Whatever the apparition had in mind didn’t, ultimately, matter; he’d inspired Hermione to stand up for herself.

 

When one of the Slytherin witches, that cow, made a snide comment about Hermione’s hair (which hadn’t been bushy since her fifth year, thank you very much), she sent the girl to the infirmary with head-to-toe, vibrant-green acne. The fear on the other Slytherins’ faces made Hermione grin for the rest of the day.

 

Word spread quickly about Hermione’s uncharacteristic hexing show and she found herself summoned to the office of the Deputy Headmaster and Slytherin Head of House, Lucius Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucius had complex emotions about asking Hermione Granger for help.

 

When the Dark Lord fell and Narcissa committed suicide, Lucius faced the consequences for the choices he’d made. One such consequence was the seizing of his property by the Ministry and the estrangement of his son. Narcissa’s decision had been her own. Lucius missed her company but that was all. Utterly alone in the world, he sought counsel from Minerva McGonagall. He put himself at her mercy and, shockingly, she offered him a teaching position. Perhaps she thought he wouldn’t last one day. Regardless, Lucius was able to keep an eye on Draco and reinvent himself. He made a home at Hogwarts for the second time in his life.

 

Hermione Granger brought guilt to Lucius’ emotional surface. Shucking his prejudice had not been difficult. It had been his wife’s idea, after all. As far as he could discern, the young witch bore him no ill will. Hermione seemed to find his situation amusing. She, along with most of the other students, accepted him.

 

Being Hermione’s professor was distressing in that her extraordinary intelligence elevated his estimation of her. She held herself differently than the other witches. She carried the emotional maturity of someone Lucius’ age. The witch had experienced the war quite personally.

 

Another reason Lucius had such mixed feelings was that, quite simply, he liked the girl. It was almost against his will. When she was in the same room, he felt drawn to her. He looked upon her as an equal, despite their shared past. Sometime between the Dark Lord’s fall and the beginning of the school term, she blossomed. The witch lost all her baby fat and her bushy curls softened. She was petite and curvaceous. She moved through corridors with the confidence of a woman that didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her.

 

Lucius was smitten. He knew it was ridiculous. He knew his interest in her would languish unrequited. He didn’t care. Lucius allowed himself to experience the unexpected emotions as he allowed himself to be a new wizard. It was simply part of his journey.

 

“Studying too hard..?” Lucius asked as Hermione settled into the chair across from his desk.

 

“I beg your pardon, Professor?”

 

“I am well aware of your behavior patterns, Ms. Granger…” he said, not even looking up from the scrolls he was grading.

 

“Are you?” Hermione replied, sounding unimpressed.

 

Lucius was equally unimpressed. He explained, “At your most studious, you become vengeful.”

 

“I am not studying too hard. I am simply through with taking verbal abuse,” Hermione retorted primly.

 

Lucius finally looked at her. He shot her an intense glance over the rim of his glasses and was pleased to see that he’d got her attention. She swallowed.  

 

“It was a harmless jinx,” she admitted.

 

Lucius sat back in his chair and removed his spectacles.  

 

“Ms. Granger, I have no interest in your corridor antics. I asked you here for another reason,” he confessed.

 

The witch remained quiet. Lucius wondered what she was thinking that made her cheeks pink like that.

 

“I hope to solicit your assistance… With Draco.”

 

“With Draco,” Hermione echoed.

 

“He has not been himself for some time. He no longer confides in me… He no longer _trusts_ me.”

 

“I’m not sure what good I might do. He doesn’t trust me, either,” she replied logically.

 

“But you are _trustworthy_. I ask that you take any opportunity to learn what has him so preoccupied. He has utterly removed himself from me.”

 

Lucius could practically read her thoughts. What did she get for helping him? A small, rare smile curled Lucius’ mouth. “I’ll offer you extra credit.”

 

The witch laughed. Lucius was shocked at how like a grown woman she sounded. He adjusted himself in his chair, the sharp stab of attraction catching him off guard.

 

“Keep your extra credit, Professor… If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

 

Lucius slipped his glasses back on and Hermione quietly hurried for the exit.

 

“Hermione,” Lucius spoke just as her hand touched the door. He was looking at her over the rim of his spectacles again. “I don’t think I need to say that this is a confidential matter.”

 

“Of course not,” she retorted before exiting the room.

 

Lucius relished his aroused state for a moment, but all too soon it passed and he returned to his grading.


	3. Chapter 3

**_This won’t work._ **

 

‘So pick someone else,’ Draco scrawled into the book as the words faded.

 

**_It must be her but she is too suspicious of me._ **

 

‘You can’t blame her,’ Draco wrote back.

 

**_My approach must change._ **

 

Draco read the words unhappily. He’d already done much more for Tom than he intended.

 

**_Get her those books I listed. Tell her nothing more than you have to._ **

 

Draco despised that Tom was so fixated on Granger. As he snuck into the Restricted Section of the library, he reminded himself that it was all a means to an end.

 

When Draco returned through the portrait, he found Granger still studying. Tom was right to believe that she mistrusted him; at this hour, she was usually in the library. She spared Draco a glance but quickly went back to her reading.

 

Draco levitated the books to her table. “Someone asked me to bring you these,” he explained at her inquiring glance.

 

Draco fought a smirk at her obvious hesitancy. Aside from having to actually speak to her, manipulating Granger was mildly entertaining. For all of her intelligence, she was gullible.

 

“You’ve made an interesting friend, Granger,” Draco drawled. He dropped casually into the chair across from her.

 

“Who is he? I mean, what’s his name?” she asked.

 

“Don’t you know?” Draco asked, genuinely surprised. Tom said she was suspicious but she didn’t even know who he was!

 

The witch set aside her notes and slid to her knees beside the low table. She picked up the topmost book. “‘Offensive Spellcraft,’” she read from the spine. She set it aside and went through the rest under Draco’s watchful gaze.

 

“They’re certainly unusual…” she commented, at a loss. “Who is the ghost?” she asked again.

 

Draco squinted at his fingernails, “I’m not sure _ghost_ is accurate…”

 

“Are you going to explain that or just make me keep guessing?” Hermione snapped.

 

“First of all, I don’t have to explain anything to you. If he didn’t give you his name, there is probably a reason. And those _Dark Arts_ books are all from my father’s personal collection.”

 

The witch drew her wand and Draco went still.

 

“I could threaten you…” she said, casually fingering the instrument.

 

“You don’t want to do that…” he replied icily.

 

“No..?”

 

Draco gave her a maddening smirk; “Not if you want to continue seeing your ghost,” he taunted and left for his room. The nerve! He hoped Tom did a real number on her.  

 

* * *

 

“Stew, we need to talk about study group.”

 

Stewart Ackerly looked up from his book to find his new girlfriend, Orla Quirke, looking worried. He snapped his book shut.

 

“Sit down. What’s up?”

 

Orla replaced Stewart’s feet on the sofa after he swung them out of her way.

 

“Did you hear that Hermione got lectured by Professor Slughorn for suggesting the use of a Class Three Illegal Substance?” Orla whispered, not wanting to be overheard.

 

“No, but-”

 

“And she got told to shut her mouth by a professor! In Basic Healing, she said that the Imperious Curse might be useful to treat patients.”

 

Stewart frowned. “It’s not like she’s teaching us to maim, torture and kill, Orla. And maybe Unforgivables can be used for good in the right circumstances.”

 

Orla’s mouth went thin and she looked at Stewart as if he’d sprouted purple antlers. Stewart stared back, waiting. Orla took a deep breath. She knew that Stewart was right. Hermione wasn’t teaching them to be bad witches and wizards.

 

“But, you know those three Hufflepuffs? The Second Years that were found outside the library?” Orla asked in a hushed voice.

 

“Hermione said she didn’t do that,” Stewart replied. One of Hermione’s braver pupils asked her if she’d done it. Stewart remembered that her surprise had been genuine but she had laughed to hear that the Hufflepuffs had been transfigured into slugs and no way to reverse the magic had yet been found.

 

“Everyone else thinks she did. No one trusts that she’s getting all of the spells she’s teaching us from _reputable_ books.”

 

Stewart had to agree with Orla on that. “She says her spells are from books that were blacklisted in Britain. Come to think of it, the other night, she asked a couple of Slytherins about a particular book. It sounded like she was looking for it...”

 

“Did you hear the title..?”

 

“Gellart’s Journal,” Stewart answered slowly. “Not one you’d find on everyone’s shelf,” he joked.

 

“As in Gellart Grindewald?” Orla gave him a tight smile. “I don’t think I want to go to Hermione’s study group anymore, Stew.”

 

“I don’t know if we dare stop,” he replied, mouth dry.


	4. Chapter 4

It was as much of a shock to the rest of the staff as it was to Minerva McGonagall, but she had grown to look upon Lucius Malfoy as a friend. He had come to her for help when he had nothing and actually accepted a teaching position. Before the school reopened, his earnest efforts won her respect and a fighting chance with the rest of the staff. A couple of heartfelt, evening discussions over wine and Minerva grew to trust him and appreciate his caustic wit.

 

He sat with her in the Headmaster quarters, pouring her a glass of wine while a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace.

 

“Elf made,” he said.

 

“Thank you, Lucius,” she replied, accepting the glass.

 

“What’s happened?” he asked, not one for small talk.

 

“Nothing serious - yet,” she stressed. “I’m concerned about Hermione.” Minerva shook her head as she smoothly finished her wine. “I’m scared to tell you my thoughts.”

 

The wizard levitated the bottle to fill her glass once more. “Hermione?” he prompted.

 

“She’s always been bright but her ideas about magic lately are downright frightening.”

 

“Is that a reason for concern?” Lucius drawled.

 

“Of course not, Lucius,” Minerva admonished. “But, she seems to have drawn a following.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“There is a growing group of students that circle her. I’ve been told that they gather in the Head Student rooms and she teaches them all spells.”

 

“Are they dangerous spells?” Lucius asked.

 

“You know as well as I that any spell can be dangerous… It’s just that this is all a bit… _familiar._ ”

 

Lucius gave a low chuckle. “You’re not comparing her to _him_ , surely?”

 

Minerva frowned. “You know what she did to Ms. O’Halloran. I understand you sent for her after the incident.”

 

Lucius hesitated answering. Minerva had surprised him. She wondered what about the incident he felt he needed to hide.

 

“I did not punish her,” Lucius finally replied, sipping his wine.

 

“She justifies it as self-defense, but she should not be passing judgment on fellow students and punishing them.” Minerva thoughtfully sipped from her glass. “If she intends to finish the year here, she must follow the rules like everyone else.”

 

“As I understand it, her behavior is as it always has been. And it has been allowed before.”

 

Minerva went quiet. He was right. Albus had allowed Harry Potter and his friends to get away with shameless rule-breaking. Granted, he was a special boy in different times.

 

“She is accustomed to preference,” Minerva agreed. “It may be unfair to impose strict rules on her now.”

 

Lucius chuckled. “Let her go. This is her final year, after all. I do not expect that Ms. Granger would cause serious harm to another.”

 

“Her spell was, undoubtedly, deserved,” Minerva added softly.

 

Lucius chuckled again and tilted his glass to her before finishing it off.

 

“I asked her to look after Draco a bit,” he admitted.

 

Minerva fixed a keen eye on the wizard. “Are you concerned about Draco?”

 

“He is not himself,” Lucius replied slowly, glassy-eyed.

 

Minerva looked closer at the wizard. The fine lines of his face were taut. He was very worried about his son. “Give him time to heal, Lucius,” she offered kindly. “Perhaps Hermione will have a good influence on him.”

 

For some reason, that seemed to cause Lucius more concern. His frown became a scowl. “I may have been rash,” he muttered, staring at the fire.

 

“Lucius?” Minerva prompted.

 

“The idea of Draco and Hermione. They will never be friends. I may have made a mistake.” Lucius sighed.

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Minerva said, but it was obvious that Lucius was lost in his own troubled thoughts.

 

“I wish more of her classmates had returned to finish their schooling,” Minerva added, still absorbed by her frightening suspicions about Hermione’s growing followers. She sipped her wine and gazed into the fire. “Perhaps I should have worked harder to recruit Potter and Weasley.”

 

“I will be glad to keep an eye on her,” Lucius offered quietly.

 

“Do the two of you get on well?”

 

“Better than I would have expected,” Lucius replied with a frown that Minerva couldn’t explain. The wizard noticed her watching him and cleared his throat. “No students have given me trouble directly.”

 

Minerva was aware of Lucius redirecting the conversation. She let it go. “They’re terrified of you,” she teased. It was nice to hear the wizard laugh. He didn’t do it very often.

 

~*~

 

Surprisingly, the question of the ghost’s identity was finally solved when Hermione happened to spot Moaning Myrtle.

 

Usually, Myrtle avoided the Prefect’s bathrooms; she’d been sternly lectured about appearing in them. But the ghost passed through while Hermione was taking her evening bath and Hermione almost swallowed a mouthful of soapy water when she recognized the unhappy specter’s uniform.

 

Hermione’s brain put two and two together quickly and she rushed from her bath to confront her suitemate.

 

Hair hanging in damp strands, Hermione pounded on Malfoy’s bedroom door.

 

“What the devil?” he asked, swinging his door open.

 

Hermione was initially taken aback by the fact that Draco’s robe gaped open all the way down the front. She looked heavenward, hoping that he had shorts on. Then, Hermione noticed that he looked awful. There were purple smudges under his eyes as if he wasn’t sleeping and he seemed to be hanging onto whatever was closest, as if he couldn’t hold himself up.

 

“Are you unwell?” she asked.

 

“Quite well, thank you,” he replied, his gaze eerily steady.

 

Hermione examined him, noting that his awareness did not match his physical appearance. His father was right. He was not himself.

 

“Was there something you wanted..?” he asked.

 

“The ghost,” Hermione replied. “It’s Tom Riddle.”

 

“Well done,” Draco answered with a grin.

 

Hermione couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. She decided that it didn’t matter. “What is his interest in me..?”

 

“He senses your doubt, Hermione.”

 

“Doubt?”

 

“Yes, doubt. Doubt in the establishment. That regulated education stunts true learning. If we’re going to continue this conversation, why don’t you come in?”

 

Hermione blinked. The person she was speaking to was not Draco Malfoy. A frisson of fear trickled down her back. He left the door open and moved into the darkness of his room. A fire burst to life in the small fireplace, illuminating the sofa where Draco sat.

 

“Come in, I’m not going to eat you,” he said over his shoulder.

 

The first thing Hermione intended to do when she left was to look up ghost possession. She stepped into Draco’s room, noting the large four-poster in the corner and his belongings strewn all over the floor. She would not have suspected Draco to be such a slob. Then again, she did not think it was _Draco_ inviting her into his room. The Slytherin’s normal speech patterns and snide demeanor were notably absent.

 

Hermione gingerly sat on the sofa beside Tom-Draco. She glanced at him to find that he was watching her. Somehow, she could see the ghost in him. The soul looking back at her was not Draco’s.

 

Tom smiled and looked at the fire. “You know who I am,” he sounded pleased.

 

“I know very little,” Hermione replied. “I know that you’re called Tom Riddle and a piece of you grew to become Lord Voldemort.”

 

“So Draco has told me,” Tom replied. “But I’d like to know more about you.”

 

“Oh?” Hermione asked, sickened. She had no desire to tell Tom a thing but she was too scared to walk away now.

 

“Draco tells me that you are passing on what I teach you,” Tom said, still smiling from Draco’s face.

 

“Yes, I suppose that I am.”

 

“What do you think of the magic I’ve shared with you so far?”

 

Hermione tried to relax a little. She would go mad if she didn’t stop trying to analyze Tom and figure out what he was. Was there any way that a Horcrux could have survived?

 

“It’s strategically unmatched,” Hermione answered truthfully.

 

“And your students feel the same?”

 

“I assume so,” Hermione replied, becoming more animated. “I only ended up with students because they agreed with my arguments in class. The professors are scandalized by my ideas.”

 

Tom was smiling at the fire. Hermione stopped herself from continuing. She would do well to remember to whom she spoke. She would also do well to play along. There was no harm in keeping her enemy close.

 

“I know where Gellart’s Journal is hidden,” he said.

 

Hermione stared at Tom-Draco. He knew she sought it. He’d pointed her right at it. Every book he’d given to her had alluded to the infamous wizard’s journal.

 

“And so does Draco’s father.”


	5. Chapter 5

Minerva was saddened to discover that she was not the only person to draw a parallel between Hermione Granger and Voldemort. Over dinner and without warning, a student shouted above the usual din, “Hermione Granger is the new Dark Lord!”

 

A Hufflepuff wizard, a sixth year if Minerva’s memory served, had stood and was pointing at Hermione. Wands had not been drawn but the Great Hall was quite still.

 

“Dark _Lady_!” a witch shouted. There was tittering from the students. The Hufflepuff stormed out of the Hall and Minerva motioned for Pomona to follow.

 

A gaggle of students gathered around Hermione. She appeared ruffled but certainly not angry. She reassured her friends and sent them back to their tables. Minerva noted that there were as many Slytherin students as there were Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. Her fear for the young witch stirred. Perhaps she should have a chat with her to discuss her future.  

 

~*~

 

“Professor Malfoy?”

 

Lucius emerged from the private rooms hidden behind the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, wondering what student would seek him out at so late an hour.

 

“Ms. Granger,” he greeted solemnly. The witch had unfortunate timing. Lucius was half-way through a bottle of wine and feeling quite lonely. He welcomed the troubles she appeared to carry. “Glass of wine?” he offered.

 

“Please,” she nodded after her initial surprise.

 

“This way,” Lucius led her into his rooms, all the while aware that he was shamelessly ignoring strict student-professor boundaries. He reasoned that he’d asked the girl to assist him with a personal task. She was of-age and wiser than most.

 

As Lucius poured her wine, he watched her make herself comfortable in the armchair before the fire and lose herself in her thoughts. It struck him that, age and history aside, they were compatible souls. Lucius’ attraction to her resurfaced and, for a moment, he allowed himself the illusion that she had come solely to see him.

 

“About Draco,” she said as their fingers met on the wine glass.

 

Like that, Lucius’ self-deception was shattered.

 

“Yes?” he prompted, alarm for his son surpassing any fleeting stirrings of desire.

 

“I’ve been unable to discover the nature of his preoccupation. But I am disturbed about his behavior. I believe you are right to have concerns.”

 

Lucius sunk unhappily onto the sofa he’d occupied before the witch’s arrival. He had suspected that Hermione wouldn’t be successful but he’d allowed himself to hope that, perhaps, Draco was simply angry with him.

 

“Is Draco particularly gifted at mending things with magical properties?”

 

That was an odd question. Lucius looked closer at the witch. She was hiding something and feeling a little guilty. He hadn’t noticed before. He hadn’t expected subterfuge from the girl.

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Why do you ask?” he countered.

 

“There is a rumor that he’s trying to mend something. He’s been asking around, looking for a particular book.”

 

“What book?” Lucius asked.

 

Hermione shook her head. “I’ve no idea.”

 

She was lying. Lucius wished he’d dropped Veritaserum into her wine. He was unprepared for her to lie. What was she hiding? Perhaps she and Draco had come to an agreement. The very idea made Lucius’ blood burn. Had she and Draco plotted together? Had she come here to mislead him? Lucius identified his ire as jealousy and forced himself to remain still and not act rashly. He might be wrong. The little witch might lie for other reasons.

 

“It’s certainly warm in here,” she commented. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucius watched her perform some impressive wandless magic. A mere waving of her fingers down her robes freed its many buttons. Lucius was unaccustomed to wandless magic being used in such a casual way. Typically, it was reserved for desperate moments. Hermione was talented indeed if she was able to cast wandless magic so effortlessly. Lucius recalled his discussion with Minerva and her worries for the girl.

 

Hermione slipped out of the robes to reveal Muggle garments that would scandalize most. Her arms and legs were bare. For the first time, Lucius appreciated denim shorts. As she sat back down, Lucius struggled to remember where his thoughts had been before she so utterly distracted him.

 

“Professor,” she said, voice a bit uncertain. “Is there any other way I may help you?”

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, still straining to recall their discussion.

 

Hermione set aside her empty wine glass and stood. Lucius watched her move towards him and it felt surreal. When her feet nearly touched his, he had a vision of her sliding onto his lap. She leaned over as if to kiss him and Lucius’ heart nearly stopped. The heat of her lips was a mere breath from his. He felt her hands slide onto his shoulders and he was lost.

 

Lucius pulled her onto his lap, just as he’d fantasized, and it felt more incredible than he could have imagined. He captured her lips in a bruising kiss. The sounds of her palms smoothing over his robes and the crackling fireplace were a quiet backdrop for the furious flow of need building in Lucius. While images of carrying her to his bed and tugging off her clothes ran through his mind, he satisfied himself with the sensation of her hot mouth under his and her hotter crux straddling him. As his erection became more prominent, Hermione gave more of herself. Small, helpless sounds escaped her throat as Lucius pressed lingering kisses down it. Her little fingers curled tighter into his robes.

 

“I want you,” he hissed into her ear, then nibbled on its delicate lobe. She gave a delicious sigh and sat back to look into his face. The witch was as aroused as he but she met his gaze with the smallest hint of fear. Unfortunately for her, Lucius particularly savored the expression on her face. With a sound like a growl, he picked her up as if she was as light as a fairy and carried her into his bedroom.

 

~*~

 

There was no way that Hermione was going to sleep beside the wizard. She was in turmoil. Lucius Malfoy had demolished any idea she had to remain emotionally detached and seduce him for information. Apparently, that scenario only worked in fiction. Damn Tom Riddle for putting the thought in her head! However, Tom had been quite accurate when he’d said that Lucius wanted her.

 

Hermione climbed silently out of Lucius’ bed and pulled on her robes. She tried very hard not to think of the things she had allowed him to do to her but particular bits of her anatomy were tender. He’d quite taken her breath away. Hermione’s only other experience had been straightforward sex with Viktor Krum. Lucius had effectively ruined Hermione’s expectations for future lovers.

 

As Hermione slipped on her shoes, she stole a look at the sleeping wizard. She felt a pang of something for him, confirming her inability to be intimate and not form an attachment. It was more than simple attraction; Hermione had always found him good-looking. Obviously, Lucius was intelligent. He had made some poor choices but society considered his debt paid. Hermione was aware of his friendship with the Headmistress; if Minerva claimed him as a friend, then he was worthy. For a moment, Hermione was tempted to climb back into his bed but she could sense that morning was near. It would be best if she left.

 

Hermione shyly blew Lucius a kiss as she slipped away.

 

~*~

 

“How was your evening?”

 

Hermione surmised that it was Tom in Draco’s skin that addressed her. Draco might have rather different things to say if he’d known her whereabouts. As a matter of fact, there was a good possibility that Draco did know where she’d been.

 

“Unproductive,” she replied.

 

“You were gone all night,” Draco-Tom said silkily.

 

Hermione got a thrill to meet pale eyes so much like Lucius’. It sent her right back to the incredible night she’d just experienced.

 

“Oh, my,” Tom purred. “It must have been enjoyable... I’ve been incorporeal for too long.”

 

Hermione blushed and frowned. Surely he didn’t think she would suffer _his_ attentions.

 

“I failed, Tom,” she announced, hoping to divert him. “I didn’t obtain the book or any information about it.”

 

The wizard moved to the edge of his chair. “Too _preoccupied_..?”

 

Hermione ignored his insinuation. Her night was none of his business. It was private. He may have been right that Lucius wanted her but she’d be damned if she would besmirch the memory of it by gossiping with Tom.

 

Tom sat back, pinning her with those unnerving eyes. “Oh dear,” he sighed dramatically, “You’ve fallen in love with him.”

 

“I have not,” Hermione contradicted, her face hot. In love! The very idea! She bit her lip when she saw Tom’s amusement. She would not be baited. Hermione had to wonder why Tom was interested in her. He wasn’t stirring _real_ trouble. He was enjoying her turmoil. Why might Tom Riddle focus on her at all? Hermione wondered if, perhaps, he was distracting her.

 

“And what did _you_ do last night?” she asked slyly.

 

He leaned towards Hermione, “Want me to show you?”

 

Despite her dislike for Draco and fear of Tom, Hermione felt a stirring in her stomach. She swallowed. Was it a spell? Just as Hermione began to suspect that the languid desire building within her was magic, a knock sounded at the portrait.

 

It was a student sent to summon Hermione to Headmistress McGonagall.

 

Hermione’s blood ran cold as she thought furiously, ‘ _she knows_.’


	6. Chapter 6

“Professor Malfoy!”

 

Lucius did not recognize the student but he moved to follow the panicked boy towards the Hufflepuff wing of the castle.

 

“It’s Stanley Stoneweather – he’s been attacked!”

 

Lucius moved faster down the unfamiliar corridors. So much for an early breakfast. The gaggle of students parted as Lucius neared. Despite the student’s panic, he was surprised to find a familiar boy lying on the stone floor. Lucius ordered the young wizard that had led him to fetch Madame Pomfrey.

 

The boy on the floor was the one that had pointed at Hermione in the Hall the night before. Lucius wondered if one of her friends had retaliated in her honor. The boy was thick with spells. It would take some time to unravel and reverse them properly. Poppy was much better suited to it. He waited until the Healer arrived before dashing for Minerva’s office. She would want to know what had happened.

 

Pomona hailed him as they passed in the corridors, “Lucius?”

 

“One of yours – just spelled. I’m on my way to tell Minerva.”

 

“She’s got Granger in her office – might announce yourself before bursting in.”

 

Lucius nearly tripped over his feet. Hermione was in Minerva’s office? One hundred worries zipped through his mind. Did Minerva know? Was Hermione confessing? Had someone found out and told Minerva? Lucius’ pale complexion was ghostly white as he silently disarmed Minerva’s office wards until he could hear them talking.

 

“Of course you would make a good teacher, Hermione. Don’t think I don’t know it was you that dragged Potter and Weasley through the majority of their classes.”

 

Lucius exhaled. Their conversation had nothing to do with him.

 

“I’m not convinced I have the temperament,” Hermione replied.  

 

“You are my best student in years. Please consider a future in Transfiguration,” Minerva replied.

 

Lucius chose to interrupt at that point. Minerva needed to know what had happened to – what was his name? Something-weather? He knocked on the open wooden door and could not keep his eyes from the witch he’d utterly lost himself in. Her cheeks went a lovely pink and she shyly looked away.

 

“Headmistress,” he prefaced, struggling to recall his somewhat urgent business, “Stanley Stormweather-”

 

“Stoneweather,” Minerva corrected with a glare over her glasses. She disliked it when professors forgot students’ names.

 

“The Hufflepuff was found badly spelled in a corridor. It appears he was attacked.”

 

Minerva and Hermione leapt to their feet.

 

“Only spelled?”

 

Lucius nodded, “As far as I could ascertain with a cursory inspection. Poppy has him now.”

 

“I see.” Minerva turned grave. “Hermione, I must ask for your whereabouts from dinner until this morning when you entered my office.”

 

Lucius fought glancing at the young witch. He could feel her looking at him. One sentence from her and all of the trust he’d built at Hogwarts would come crashing down around his polished shoes. Then again, he could not ask her to lie for him. He had built his new home with toil and conviction, not untruths.

 

“I was in my room,” Hermione said softly. Lucius could hear the uncertainty in her voice and, inwardly, he cringed.

 

“Will Mr. Malfoy confirm that?”

 

Lucius was startled but quickly realized that Minerva was referring to Draco.

 

“I don’t know,” Hermione sighed.

 

“Please tell me that you are not responsible for this student’s condition,” Minerva said through thin lips.

 

“Not directly,” Hermione replied, looking militant with her face fixed on Minerva, back straight, and hands locked behind her back.

 

“Lucius would you be so kind as to fetch your son..?”

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Lucius interjected, smooth and quiet. He felt Hermione’s gaze like a warm gust of wind.

 

“Ms. Granger, would you be kind enough to leave us? Wait in your rooms, perhaps?” Finally, he allowed himself to exchange a look with her and he saw that she was willing to lie for him. Lucius thanked her with a barely discernible wink and gestured towards the door. He saw something new blossom in her and it scared him a little. Her appreciation for him took another step.

 

“Lucius?” Minerva prompted darkly.

 

“It grieves me, Minerva, but I must offer my resignation,” he shrugged.

 

The older witch picked up the nearest scroll and whapped him hard on the arm with it. “With a student, Lucius!” She hit him again and then dropped the scroll as if it had burned her. She straightened her collar but did not apologize.

 

“She’s innocent,” Lucius added needlessly.

 

“You may not remain another night in this castle,” Minerva stated bitterly.

 

Lucius nodded and left. He rued the loss of their friendship more than the job. He decided it would be best if he silently packed up and disappeared. Hermione had her entire life ahead of her while Lucius had lived much of his already. He’d been weak, giving into his desire for Hermione. He hadn’t given a thought to consequences. He was not a wizard accustomed to denying himself.

 

Lucius was emptying his wardrobe and levitating his meager belongings into a travel trunk when she appeared.

 

“You didn’t need to do that,” Hermione said. “But thank you.”

 

“I accept full responsibility,” Lucius replied, unable to look at Hermione. He was quite enamored with the witch. He dreaded her asking anything of him. Was there aught he could refuse?

 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I had every intention of seducing you,” Hermione snapped. “But now, Draco needs your help.”

 

“Draco?” Lucius asked as his concentration shattered and his belongings fell to the floor.

 

“I suspect he’s mended Tom Riddle’s diary.”

 

Lucius blinked. “Mended what?”

 

“As in, Tom Riddle has returned. He’s been possessing Draco and is, most likely, behind the occurrences against students. His teachings to me were a distraction.”

 

The walls tilted and Lucius reminded himself to breathe. It was as if all the air in the room had been vanished.

 

“Is it possible?” he muttered, staring blindly at the girl. His son!

 

“I think the book he’s looking for might help.”

 

“Book? What?” Lucius felt lost.

 

“Gellart’s Journal.”

 

Lucius blinked at her. The girl knew of its existence and knew that he had it. Nothing made sense!

 

“You’ve known that the Dark Lord is rising again and told no one?” he demanded. 

 

“He isn’t dangerous in his present situation,” she said quietly.

 

“I wouldn’t discount me entirely,” drawled Draco from the doorway.

 

“Draco,” Lucius said cautiously, appraising his son.

 

“Not today,” Draco/Tom replied and drew his wand. “Hermione, I’m disappointed. You were such a bright student...”

 

It was as if the world exploded around her. Hermione suddenly went deaf and she felt herself moving. She watched, immobile and helpless, as spell light flashed, momentarily illuminating the wall at which her gaze was fixed. He had not killed her! He wanted her alive..? Hermione felt tingles of another spell hit her and the world went dark.

 

~*~

 

Hermione gasped as she awoke and struggled against her robes, afraid that she was still magically immobile.

 

“Hello,” said a voice that sent her into more panic.

 

Draco sat on a cot beside her. Soft light glowed beyond the hospital wing’s curtains. Hermione’s heart skipped. She was alive and she was at Hogwarts.

 

“What have you done to my father?” Draco growled.

 

Hermione stared at the wizard and relief flooded her. Her head swam a little but she sat up. “I see you’re you. What happened?”

 

“I don’t remember much but, apparently, Slughorn had a stash of basilisk venom. The diary is, finally, beyond repair.”

 

Hermione studied Draco and he examined her right back. Something had changed between them. Perhaps the rebirth of Tom Riddle and personal involvement in the near-catastrophic event forced a realignment of both of their values.

 

“Why’d you do it in the first place?” Hermione asked quietly.

 

“To see if I could,” Draco answered, not bothering to lie.

 

Hermione scowled but she had no better reason for allowing Tom to manipulate her. She’d misjudged the horcrux as well, even allowing it to teach her.

 

“He hurt my father,” Draco added darkly.

 

“He’s hurt? Where is he?” Hermione asked, surprised at the depth of her concern.

 

“St. Mungo’s and he was asking for you... Care to explain that?”

 

Hermione hopped from the cot, intent on going to see him. “I _can’t_ explain it.”


	7. Epilogue

“I’m so pleased you came,” Lucius drawled, slowly sitting back down, smoothly hiding the constant pain in his left leg.

 

“Don’t waste pretty speech on me, Lucius,” Minerva replied, sliding into the booth. She noted the gillywater waiting for her. “Perhaps you can explain to me why I am here.”

 

Lucius bravely met the witch’s gaze. “I am sorry for the incident with Hermione.”

 

Minerva removed her hat and sipped her drink. It was ironic that Lucius apologized for his transgression with a student but not for his son almost bringing about a third resurrection of Lord Voldemort. Of course, the latter was Draco’s fault. Lucius was only responsible for not knowing his son’s agenda and parents were often at fault for that.

 

“I don’t have many that I call friend...” the wizard continued.

 

“You will never again teach, Lucius, but you may claim me as a friend,” Minerva answered in her direct, no-nonsense manner. “Now, how is Hermione?”

 

“She is well. She continues her research in pain potions... I had the devil of a time sneaking away from her... You’ll be the first to know this, besides Draco. In eleven years, another Malfoy will attend your school...”

 

Minerva was not surprised. She shared a rare smile with Lucius. “Congratulations. I hope Draco is pleased..?” She could only imagine the boy’s feelings about his nemesis becoming his step-mother, let alone the mother of his siblings.

 

“His acceptance is hastened by his guilt...”

 

“I’m sorry,” Minerva offered kindly.

 

“No, no,” Lucius shook his head. “We are content.”

 

“You deserve contentment, _old friend_ ,” Minerva teased.

 

Her poke at his age was not lost on Lucius but he toasted her with his glass, finally content to know that he had not lost her trust. Draco’s soul was healing; Hermione had moved into a nice home with him and would, he was certain, marry him when he asked. And he had a child on the way that would be born into a world without ever knowing the fear of Lord Voldemort. Contentment, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** My Artistic License is being flashed pretty freely in this one. This story plot was conceived in February of 2005 as a Tom Riddle/Hermione, Draco/Hermione plot. Ah, how time changes things…  
>  **Originally published:** April 15, 2013


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